Unravel Me
by Kaslyna
Summary: Post-Marionette; spoilers for everything, AU. :/ Something that's been bouncing in my head since I saw Pilot in early December. :P Hope it's original and not OOC. D: From sadness, happiness; from pain, love.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This idea has been on an endless loop in my head. :P Still unsure if I'm continuing Shout to Pretend or not. ;) I have a chapter done, I just don't know if I want to post. :/ Anyways, AU and canon, as usual, some things I've made up, blah blah blah. Also, I'm very sorry if it's rushed, confusing, and/or OOC. Please if you don't like, don't read, and only flame in the reviews if it'll help me. :/ The title is from "Black & White" by Sarah McLachlan; I just thought it fit. :P Beautiful song. ^^**

**Disclaimer: I own zilch. Sorry. Maybe if my parents had continued in the TV business I would. But nope.**

"...But in the end... you have to come back... because you belong _with_ me," it takes every ounce of courage in her body to tell him this, to bare her soul to him.

She steps closer to him, knows she must make this first move now, so she shyly places a hand over his heart, the other snaking around his neck; and as her lips crash onto his, the hand upon his heart moves up, making a fist on his shoulder, and it takes so much strength not to cry. He hugs her to him, tugs off her jacket, unwilling to wait. He knows they probably don't have much time left, but he doesn't care. He's spent a month without Olivia and all he wants now is to absorb her into him, to become one whole, finally.

"Peter..." she warned, "We have... not a lot of time."

He chuckled huskily, "I've waited two years, Olivia... we can be fast."

She smirked, nodding, "We've got an hour, Peter. It'll take at least twenty minutes to get there."

Still, she didn't protest too much when he removed her shirt, nor when he removed her bra, his shirt soon following. Before long pants and underwear, too, had been shucked carelessly and she hovered over him on the piano bench. He reached up and tenderly stroked her cheek; she sighed happily and leaned into his caress as she gently descended upon him. He groaned a little. His lips explored every inch of her beautiful body, thumbing at her clit and attacking her breasts like he had wanted to the very first day they'd met. They were quick, coming over the edge at the same time, gasping. After, they dressed hurriedly and ran out the door, ignoring Agent Francis still tied up in the chair.

The drive to the opera house is long and silent and tense; but not out of awkwardness, this tension is comforting to them both. Before they exit the car she smiles softly at him, squeezes his hand, and he knows what she cannot say to him just yet. Even still he is glad and readily follows her outside into the crisp September air.

The fight is briefer than it should be, Olivia thinks, and then suddenly, an explosion, and blackness. Closing her eyes she whispers, "Peter."

Then she loses herself to the dark.

POPOPOPO

When she wakes she is filled with a sudden, all-consuming fear. The blinds raise, and the lights flicker on. She stands then, a little dizzy but needing to get out suddenly.

"Please let me out of here. I know you can hear me! Please... please let me out of here. I know you can hear me! Please let me out of here! No, no, no," she's on the verge of tears and screaming, "No! No! No!"

He leaves, the blinds closed, and she sinks to the ground and sobs hysterically, chanting Peter's name over and over, her tether to reality. Olivia realizes that's she is starving; she absently wonders what day it is. Did Peter make it back? She hopes like hell he did. Olivia knows that if he's over here it's not safe. It really isn't.

Her eyes shut and Olivia sighs. It's not long before a guard shoves a tray of food underneath the door, and Olivia devours it greedily, too tired and hungry to care much about her surroundings.

Days pass, maybe even weeks, and Olivia counts them in meals. They experiment on her and she has no say at all. She's been there for almost four weeks (about eighty-four meals) before she manages to escape. When she finally gives in she no longer remembers, thank God.

But when the hallucinations start, everything crumbles around her.

POPOPOPO

Olivia can't begin to fathom who she is until she vomits for the fourth time that day. She's been this sick for about a week now and it's not going away. Olivia doesn't go to the doctor. It's not worth risking it. She spends her days staving off the hallucinations and figuring out ways to get back. She's known she's not from here.

When she finally makes it back, she collapses in the lab. Astrid is there, and she awakens in the ambulance and clutches the younger woman's shirt, whispering hoarsely, "Baby..."

Then she passed out again, she is told. Later on her doctors tell her that she and the baby are both fine, and while she knows in this universe she is about eight weeks along, in the other universe she's about eleven weeks along. Meaning she'd be due early May, not early June. But nonetheless, it's Peter's child.

She is going to tell him when he tells her about the Other Olivia. And somehow she can't tell him.

POPOPOPO

Two and a half weeks pass; Olivia goes to regular appointments (trauma and drugs made for a high-risk pregnancy), takes her vitamins, is extremely careful. She's had a doctor at Massive Dynamic look at the baby, too, and he says that the child really _is_ fine, though at this early stage it's unfathomable how he or she survived crossing over. She's sure Peter has suspected something is up, though they're not speaking about anything that's not work related, and that kills her. Every time she wants to tell him she can't; her throat closes and her mouth dries up and suddenly she's trapped.

Until the rainy day when they're in the car, outside his place. She'd made him come out here with her, needing the ability to escape if she had to. He'd warily agreed and now they sat with the radio on to some jazz station that Peter liked. Olivia was too nervous to change it or argue like she usually did. Now she sighed and gazed down at the hands folded in her lap.

"Liv?" he asked softly, "What is it?"

She bit her lower lip, shook her head, looked at him, smiled sadly, "Peter. I'm pregnant."

His eyes widened in shock, "Olivia...?"

"It's yours," she responded, sighing before explaining, "I'm almost fourteen weeks along... eleven weeks here. Time differences."

He nodded slowly, "You've known since you came back?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I just..."

"Liv," he sighed, "What... what do you want me to do? I just..."

"I know. You don't know what to do... because of everything that's happened," he turned to look at her and she smiled briefly, "Anyways, I want you in the child's life. Whatever we had... we can't let them win, Peter. We can't give up. I want... I want to try again, with you, if you're willing, of course. And not from where we left off... I want to go slow. I _need_ to go slow, Peter."

He nodded, "Can I think?"

"You have about five more months to think," she said softly, leaning over to kiss his cheek, "I should probably get back."

"Yeah," he reluctantly agreed, "See you tomorrow?"

She smiled, nodded, "Yeah. See you tomorrow."

POPOPOPO

The next day dawns bright for Olivia, who has since moved into a cheap apartment upstairs from her old one recently. It's bigger, two bedrooms, and it'll do for now. She was lucky the superintendent had kindly let her rent from the other place carry over. It only took her three days to move in.

Breakfast is quick; she heads to the lab before Walter and locks herself in her office. It's not like the kid hasn't been exposed to worse yet, she thinks bitterly, humorlessly.

Peter comes in and asks her why the hell she in the lab; she calmly replies, "Kid's been through worse, Peter. I don't think it can hurt him or her at this point."

His face crumpled, "Dammit... I'm sorry."

She shook her head, "It's fine."

"No, it's not," his voice was fierce, fists clenching and unclenching, "He had no _right_ to that to you, Olivia. No fucking right at all."

"Peter," she whispered softly, "We're here now, and we're both okay."

He nodded, "I suppose I should take some comfort in that."

She smiled sadly, "If it really makes you uncomfortable, I can go to the FBI office."

He sighed, scrubbed a hand over his face, "Would you mind? Just for my peace of mind."

"Of course," she chuckles a bit, "I came in early purposely, so that Walter wouldn't be here."

"Smart move," he approved.

"Help me bring this stuff?" she apologetically gestured to the boxes haphazardly strewn about, "Oh, I moved."

"Where?" he asked, casually.

"Um, same building. Just upstairs," she shrugged, "Apartment 3A."

He nodded, "That's good."

"Yeah."

Silence follows, thick with unresolved and undiluted tension. Then she blinks, smiling a little, balancing one small box off her hip and handing him the other. They go to his car; he drives them to the FBI building. She'd yet to tell Broyles of her pregnancy; she figured she'd wait a few days, having wanted to tell Peter before her boss. Olivia and Peter made it to the conference room that was empty and would serve as her temporary 'office'.

"You told Broyles yet?"

"Uh, no," she shakes her head, "No. I wanted to tell you first."

He feels touched, "How many people know?"

"Just us, my doctor, Nina, and a doctor at Massive Dynamic. I figured the sooner they looked over the kid, the sooner we could know if this child was a potential harm," she responded.

He nodded, "No fire-breathing babies."

She snorted, rolling her eyes, "Oh, God. Just the thought..."

He smirked, "Let's pray this kid will be normal."

She nodded, suddenly serious, "Peter?"

"Yeah?" he looked up.

"What if..." she hesitated, biting her lower lip, then whispered, "What if...?"

"What is it, sweetheart?" he gently took her face in his hands so that she had to look at him, murmuring, "Just tell me..."

"What if this baby has Cortexiphan in its body?" she blurted out, flushing a little.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," Peter finally sighed, "Don't worry."

Olivia nodded, believing him, "Okay."

The two set to work unpacking Olivia's things in the awkwardly silent room.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm sorry if this is OOC or goes too fast, and I'm sorry if it seems similar to anyone's works. I am not copying... right now it's difficult. ;) Anyhow. :P The reason I'm rushing through is that I want to get to the central focus of the story. :/**

**Disclaimer: Still own nothing. Damn.**

Olivia and Peter had decided to tell Broyles after telling Walter. Olivia had decided to tell Rachel when she came out for the weekend to house-hunt. They had decided to tell Walter over dinner that Thursday. Walter had invited Astrid, but Olivia was determined to tell him about the baby before she chickened out or grew to the size of a whale. Besides, Peter had a point; if anything got weird, it'd be a good idea for Walter to know so he could help Olivia.

"Can I have a moment?" she asked timidly as people started to pass around food.

"What is it?" Walter asked as Peter gently squeezed her thigh, right above her knee, under the table.

"I'm pregnant," she said, letting it sink in before continuing, "Um. It's Peter's... uh..."

"We..." he was looking down at his feet, "On the other side... uh..."

"That's why you were late to the opera house!" exclaimed Walter, clapping, "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"

Olivia shook her head, "No. In this world I'm fifteen weeks along, but with time discrepancies... I'm eighteen weeks."

They celebrated and talked and laughed and Olivia felt happy for the first time since she'd been back.

And when Peter kissed her, caught up in the excitement, she kissed him back.

POPOPOPO

Broyles took the news without too much surprise; he'd suspected it since Olivia came back almost two months prior. He was happy for them, and as Peter was a consultant, not FBI, no transfers were required. Not that Olivia would have let him.

She called Rachel that night; her younger sister was ecstatic. Things were finally starting to look up for her.

POPOPOPO

She felt like hell on Earth. No, that was an understatement. Olivia felt like crap, utter crap. She'd never felt so sick in her entire life. She reached weakly for the phone on her bedside table and dialed the too familiar number, biting her lower lip as she awaited his answer. She was on her back in bed, one hand holding the phone to her ear, the other on the small bump forming from her lower abdomen.

"Liv?" he answers, groggy and confused, "Liv, what is it?"

"Peter," she whispered, feeling stupid, "I'm sorry, uh..."

"No. What's wrong?" he asked.

"Would you mind coming over?"

A pause, then, "Sure. What's up?"

"I feel really sick... I don't want to be alone," she admitted, blushing furiously, "So, uh, just take your time..."

She heard rustling and then, "I'll be right there, Liv. I'll bring breakfast, too."

She nodded, then whispered, "See you soon."

"Bye, Liv," he replied before hanging up.

Olivia tried to move but reeled with sudden dizziness. Groaning, she slowly moved out of the bed and plodded to her bathroom, using the toilet and splashing cold water on her face. It was all she could manage before she surely collapsed, so she shuffled into her bedroom and lay down, waiting for Peter with a restless hand on her tummy, talking softly to the growing baby. When she'd told Rachel last week Rachel had suggested it, even though Olivia was sure at nearly nineteen weeks (or sixteen, depending on your view) the baby didn't have ears. She made a note to ask Peter and she couldn't help smiling a little.

"Olivia?" she hears.

"Door's open," she croaks.

"Damn. You must really be sick to forget to lock your door, Liv," he sighed, coming into her room. She glared at him but she wasn't really mad, just irritated and cranky and nauseous.

"Peter," she mumbled, "I feel sick. Ugh."

"Can you get up?"

She shakes her head gently, "No. I just used the bathroom. Barely could walk there and back."

He placed a gentle hand on her forehead, "You hungry?"

Olivia scowled, "Ew."

He laughed a little, "Okay, well you're going to need to to eat later."

She rolled her eyes, "Yes, mother."

"How's the kid today, Liv?" he asked, purposely ignoring her, frowning as a new idea popped in his brain.

"Fine. Quiet, why?" she asked, suddenly worried, "Peter? What's wrong?"

"Probably nothing, just a flu, but..."

"Oh, God," she groaned, remembering all too well the women combusting, "Jesus. Do you really think...?"

"We need to get you to Massive Dynamic, now. Just in case," he concluded quickly.

She nodded, "Okay."

He eased Olivia out of the bed and steered her out of her apartment; when she was situated in the car, he called Walter and told him to meet them at Massive Dynamic. Peter put the siren on, ignoring Olivia's murderous glare. They were far too important to risk losing them. They peeled out of the driveway and Peter put on some soothing jazz, just in case, and was talking softly with Olivia, knowing she needed to be relaxed... just in case their child was about to make both of them spontaneously combust.

The drive that should've been about four and a half hours took two and a half, with the siren and speeding helping things along. A cop was after them for about three miles and Olivia had thought to bring her badge and gun to show. He'd scowled and let them go.

Nina and Walter were already waiting for them; they ushered them inside and up to the little clinic where Olivia was instructed to lay on a bed. Brandon came in to take the temperatures of both Olivia, and with thermal imaging, the baby as well. He concluded that indeed, their temperatures were steadily rising. There was a small argument outside between Walter, Nina, and Brandon about how to handle this; Walter wanted Olivia in a room and able to focus on a single object, but Nina and Brandon both agreed that the child was far too new at this and therefore would have little to no control whatsoever. Eventually Olivia was placed on ice blankets in a chamber until she and the baby cooled down a bit.

Peter was allowed to remain with her, though at a distance; she couldn't hear or talk to him, because it was decided it'd be best if she had no verbal stimulation while in the chamber. She'd fallen asleep quickly, all things considered.

Now Peter watched her sleeping face and prayed like hell that she and the baby would be okay.

POPOPOPO

When Olivia awoke it rushed back to her and she looked out to find Peter asleep in a chair ten feet away. She frowned and moved a hand slowly, gently, to her stomach, lightly caressing the bump that housed their child. She hoped everything would be okay. She had to bite her lip to keep from crying... this baby meant the world to her and Olivia couldn't bear to lose it now, clichés be damned.

Walter came in soon after Peter had awoken and when they determined that both Olivia and the child were stable they removed her temporarily to discuss possible options. Walter had managed to make a drug that should be able to counteract the effects of Cortexiphan, but it was highly risky and untested at best. Peter, of course, was opposed to the idea, but Olivia was thinking rationally, as usual these days.

"Peter," she reasoned, "We have to try. We can't let this happen again."

And finally, amazingly, she succeeded, and much to his chagrin, Peter relented. The drug was administered, and Olivia seemed fine. Still, he didn't want to let her out of his sight. Olivia sensed this and agreed to stay with them for the first three days or so. He knew she'd fight him for the sleeping bag, but he also knew he couldn't risk losing Olivia again, either, and he'd take a pissed off Olivia over no Olivia any day, any time at all.

The drive up was spent in cheerful silence; he took her by her apartment. It took Olivia twenty minutes to get what she needed and waddle back downstairs. When they got to the house the issue of the sleeping bag was brought up.

"It's wrong for you to sleep on the floor," he argued, "You're carrying my kid and it's the least I can do for you after everything that happened this autumn."

"It's your house," Olivia countered, "Besides, I'm fine. We're fine."

Eventually, Olivia suggested they shared the bed, her reasoning being, "We're both adults, and besides, it's your kid, too. You've already seen me-and her-naked. I don't think we can't share the bed. I don't want you to get a bad back and you don't want me and the baby hurt."

He sighed, nodded, "Okay."

POPOPOPO

The tension between them was palpable. Olivia lay on the right side, with Peter on the left, both on their backs, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her hands were caressing absently the child encased in her womb. She bit her lower lip to refrain from singing, a habit that she'd begun; it eased the loneliness and it made her happy.

"How's our baby?" he finally asked, and Olivia sighed.

"We're fine," she smiled a little, then let out a squeak, "Oh!"

"Liv? What is it?" he quickly turned towards her to find her smiling.

"I think I felt the baby move," she laughed happily, "Oh! There we go again. Peter, you gotta feel this."

Before he could answer she yanked his hand, gently but firmly pressing his palm onto the mound of a belly that housed their child. They held their breath and she frowned when the child didn't kick.

"Say something, Peter," she urged.

"Hey, little guy," he whispered softly, "Can he hear us?"

Olivia shrugged, "It's worth a try."

She smiled excitedly as they felt the tentative flutter from inside of her. Peter looked up at her and grinned.

"You felt that?" she asked.

"Yeah," he nodded, "Wow. That's amazing, Olivia."

"I know," her smile was sad, wistful now, "It's hard to believe that we created this life together. I don't know what's going to happen, what our child will be like or do, but Peter... you gotta know, I'll never regret him or her. I'll never regret you."

"That sounds like a death speech," he responded drily.

"We never know how much time we've got left," she sighed softly, "I just... after everything I've seen and been through, Peter, if I left it unsaid..."

He nodded, "Someday you will tell me what happened over there, Olivia."

"I will," she agreed, "I promise you, Peter, I will. Just not now. Right now this baby is more important than trying to get over what happened over there, okay?"

They lay again on different sides of the bed, and before he could lose his courage he whispered, "I never told her."

"What?" she replied, turning her head to look at him.

He smiled bitterly, "I never told her, Olivia. I guess... this is the thing I can't leave unsaid. It's killing me inside that I didn't know, but... I had no reason to. I guess it's because I never told her. Somewhere deep in my heart I just knew... why didn't I do anything about it, Olivia? I should've... I kept making excuses. For me. For her. And in the end..."

He shakes his head, "It's over now, but..."

"Peter..." she whispered, crying quietly now, "Peter..."

"Don't cry, sweetheart," he murmured, gently stroking her cheek, "It's okay. It'll all be okay, Olivia. I promise. I promise."

She nodded vigorously, "You didn't know. You didn't know. You couldn't know..."

"Sleep," he whispered, as she repeated those lines again and again, a mantra of hurt and sacrifice, "Sleep, Olivia."

She yawned and then proceeded to do just that with one final mumble of, "You didn't know..."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I am bored. :/ Just got nothing to do. :P Midterms, it's snowing, and I have no tests today so I'm writing instead. ;)**

**Disclaimer: Same as always.**

Rachel and Ella showed up on Olivia's doorstep when Olivia was almost twenty-one weeks pregnant. Ella was excited to have a cousin and Rachel was just happy that Olivia was doing okay. All Rachel had heard was that Olivia had been held hostage for two months and Peter had cheated on her during the time. Not the truth, of course, but as long as Olivia was okay... Olivia told Rachel they'd been sort of miscommunicated at the time and that she'd done what she needed to to return to Peter. Rachel suspected Olivia was hiding something from her, but when she'd asked about the truth, Olivia had pleaded for her to just drop it.

"It's over now, Rachel. We're doing okay," Olivia had explained, "The truth... even if it weren't classified it'd just scare you more than it'd help you. Please, Rachel, just let me protect you, okay?"

Rachel had nodded, relenting, "Okay."

The three girls found themselves in the kitchen cooking dinner that night. Peter, Walter, and Astrid were coming over to welcome Rachel back to Boston. Olivia had her hair tied back off her face, wearing jeans and a maternity sweater rolled up her arms with an apron. She was currently elbow deep in flour; she'd decided she wanted to make garlic bread from scratch, and Ella had agreed to help her. Rachel had since been shooed out of the kitchen. Spaghetti and tomato sauce (Ella's recipe) were cooking on the stove. The bread was almost ready to go in, and then she'd finish the salad.

"Aunt Liv?" Ella's small voice said.

"Yes, baby girl?" she asked, too busy to look at her.

"How'd you call me on my birthday?" Ella asked innocently.

Olivia stiffened, then replied, "I escaped. Just for a little while."

"Why won't you tell us the truth?"

"Baby girl," Olivia turned, kneeling in front of her niece, "Sweetie, there are some things that are best left unknown, okay? I'm protecting you by not telling you the truth. Maybe you don't see it, but I am. The truth will only hurt you."

"How will it hurt us?" Ella asked and it broke Olivia's heart, the inquisitiveness and innocence in Ella's voice, "Don't we deserve the truth?"

"You do," she sighed softly, "More than anything. But one day you'll understand, Ella. Now come on. Peter will be here soon."

Ella nodded and helped Olivia to her feet. She could feel the tension and hummed softly to herself, running a hand over her growing belly for comfort. Ella continued watching the pasta and Olivia put the bread in the oven and started the salad. Both were immensely relieved when the doorbell rang and Astrid came in. She eyed Olivia curiously, who barely shook her head. Peter came in and grinned at Olivia.

"Hey," he said coming over and kissing her forehead, patting her stomach, "How're my two favorite people doing?"

Smiling Olivia replied, "We're doing good. Mind doing me a favor?"

"What is it?"

"Keep Rachel out of the kitchen. She can't cook to save her life. Unless you want food poisoning, keep her entertained, okay?"

Peter laughed, nodding, "Sure."

Peter left to keep both Walter and Rachel busy and Astrid stayed in the kitchen to help Olivia and Ella with dinner. She'd brought with her a carrot cake, one of Olivia's latest cravings. Olivia couldn't help smiling and hugging the junior agent. This was nice; this was real and this was right, it seemed. They had made a surrogate family that they all found comfort in. Astrid, Olivia, and Rachel were like sisters; it was nice, Olivia had to admit. She hoped that maybe one day the baby would have this, too.

From the main room Olivia heard laughter and the sounds of Monopoly coupled with the TV on Wheel of Fortune, something that Peter had recently discovered. She couldn't wait until she could join them. Fortunately, dinner was soon done. Everyone sat around the table and they ate quickly. Rachel and Peter cleaned up and Astrid brought out the cake. After dessert, Olivia, Walter, and Astrid went to play Monopoly while Peter, Rachel, and Ella cleaned up. Once they'd cleaned up dinner, the three joined them for another game of Monopoly and another hour of mocking game show hosts on the TV. It was nice, Olivia had to admit. She hadn't been this happy for a long time.

She found she enjoyed it, actually.

POPOPOPO

Rachel and Ella had fallen asleep in the guest room and it was just Peter and Olivia on her couch. He was tickling her belly, trying not only to make Olivia smile and laugh but to make the child kick. He was fascinated by their child's movements. Olivia secretly loved this; she loved the way Peter would tease her and how the baby would kick in response.

"Come on little guy," he prodded, "Daddy's gonna get you."

Olivia swatted at him, "I don't think he has ears."

"Your point?"

Olivia sighed, rolling her eyes, "God, you're such a kid."

He chuckled, smirking, "If I were a kid..."

"In case that kid does have ears, you better not finish that sentence," she growled, but really she was happy.

"Hey, kid," he murmured, his hands cradling her belly, "I'm sorry your mommy's so mean."

"I'm not mean," she protested, "I just don't want you to scar the kid before they're born."

"Well..." he got a devious grin on his face that instantly made her heart quicken in fear, "He can't see us..."

"Don't you dare," Olivia whispered, but without much conviction.

He grinned and slowly crept up, hovering over her. He slowly descended his lips upon hers. Olivia's eyes fluttered shut with a sigh. Peter's lips brushed shyly over hers, a whisper of a kiss, ghosting away as quickly as he'd come. He didn't want to frighten her; just to tease her. She opened her eyes, frowning a little when he pulled away. Then her arms wrapped around his neck and she kissed him, hard. When she pulled away she held him to her, biting her lower lip to keep her emotions at bay.

He shifted on the couch, pulling Olivia so she was in his lap. He hugged her tightly to his chest and she let out a shaky breath.

"I missed you," she admitted softly.

"I know," he replied.

He turned her so that Olivia sat with her back against his chest. She leaned her head against his shoulder. Their hands lay joined over her tummy. He ran his thumbs over her hands, her stomach, and the baby kicked joyously in response. Olivia laughed a little at that and it was the most beautiful sound Peter had ever heard.

"It's late," she told him softly, "We need to sleep."

He nodded, gently letting her stand. Then he stood, kissed her forehead, and whispered a goodbye before he left. She smiled a little before sighing and waddling back to her bedroom. She had changed into a t-shirt and shorts when she heard rather than saw Rachel come in.

"Liv?" she asked.

"Yeah?"

"Nevermind," Rachel shook her head, smiling, "Whatever."

She left and Olivia frowned, knowing exactly what her little sister had wanted to say to her. Rachel obviously wondered what the hell Olivia had been doing. And Olivia was starting to wonder that, too. Olivia sighed, crawling into her bed, stared at the ceiling. She didn't sleep much but when she did it was restless at best. Despite it being nearly February, Olivia felt like she was burning with confusion. Her eyes closed and Olivia sighed.

Worrying had never gotten her anywhere good before, so why start now?

POPOPOPO

Ella has discovered a band that quite frankly gives Olivia the creeps. It's not so bad, but she doesn't think an almost eight year old girl should listen to it. She brings it up to Rachel, who tells her it's just a phase. It comes up once more during lunch with Peter. He'd taken her out for burgers and fries because she'd been craving them for two days and hadn't eaten breakfast.

"It's fucking scaring me," Olivia complained, swiping a fry when she thought Peter wasn't looking, "I mean, how can Rachel be so casual about it? I have nothing against Goths. But I really don't think Ella should be listening to music where the singer screams, 'I want to die!'. I've wanted to die before, Peter, but I... it's not a laughing matter, you know?"

He nodded, "I can try to talk to Rachel."

"You don't have to. Honestly? I'd rather you burn those damn CD's," Olivia replied hotly, "Ella's too young to listen to that crap."

"Olivia?" there was a soft sincerity in his tone that made her look at him just as he hesitantly interlaced their hands on the tabletop. She smiled a little.

"Yes?" she whispered.

"This is why you'll make a great mother."

"Thank you... that means a lot."

And it does.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Am in Fringe heaven. Probably succeeded in making my parents think I was having another mental breakdown the way I kicked everyone out. :/ I was like, "SHUSH DAMMIT IT'S FRINGE AND I'LL CUT OFF YOUR ARMS." Yeah. I get pretty damn crazy. Whatever. Again, sorry for anything wrong. :P**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. :/ Damn.**

Olivia officially hates pregnancy at around week twenty-six and can no longer deny it. The squeals, the questions, and the constant touching of her tummy are merely the beginning. At least the students at Harvard are smart enough not to touch her. She's in her office, tapping a pen to her lips, trying to focus on the task at hand. Lately focusing has been a problem for her, one that Rachel had had while pregnant with Ella. Add in Peter's genes and you've got the attention span of a rodent, at best.

She sighs, frustrated. At almost seven months pregnant Olivia feels like a beached whale most days. Still, Peter is happy and their relationship is no longer so strained. They haven't really been dating; just going around as friends. She's finally healing and relatively happy. Peter brings her whatever she's craving, whenever. If Olivia has a nightmare, she'll call him and talk or if it's really bad, show up at his door and fall asleep in his arms. He takes good care of her and the baby both. It's really, really nice.

Olivia smiles a little; Peter is at her door with a bag of Indian takeout, her latest favorite.

"You are a Godsend," she declares, sighing happily, "I haven't been able to work at all today."

He smirked a little, coming over and kissing her forehead, "No problem, Livia. Your favorite."

"Thank you so much. I forgot breakfast again," she smiled sheepishly and he rolled his eyes, "Sorry. Little room for my stomach these days."

He chuckled, "I'd suppose so."

Olivia childishly stuck her tongue out at him, taking out containers of food. She moaned as she dug it, gesturing so that Peter knew he, too, could eat. He shook his head, smiling a little. Olivia was just too cute pregnant. Of course, with the amount of hormones in her body, it was probably wise not to let her know he thought that, lest he want to never have another child again. Which, of course, he didn't know right away. It was a miracle; first getting Olivia back, and now the baby. It was a whirlwind, but it was so unlike every other downward spiral he'd ever been on. No, this one was different because it was her. It was Olivia Dunham, the one person who trusted him and believed in him when he couldn't fathom doing so himself. He'd always be thankful for that, and he'd love her all the more for it, and for being the mother of his unborn child.

"Peter?"

"Mhmm?"

Olivia bit her lower lip nervously, "I signed up for Lamaze a while back. I, uh... Rachel refuses to take me, so could you...?"

"Sure," he nods, "Why won't Rachel take you?"

Olivia rolls her eyes, "She says we gotta work this thing between us out."

Peter laughed. Olivia smiled. It was nice.

It really was.

POPOPOPO

Week twenty-eight is the week Olivia begins Lamaze. Peter picks her up from the lab. They've agreed to lunch afterwards at Olivia's favorite Indian restaurant. They check in at the Lamaze center. In the room are six other couples; the youngest looks to be maybe nineteen or twenty, but definitely in college. Some wear wedding bands; some don't. There are loveseats for the couples; Peter helps Olivia onto one by the back window. She sinks into it and glares at him.

"I'll shoot you if I can't get up," Olivia warns, and he smirks wryly.

"Yeah, yeah," he rolled his eyes indifferently, sitting beside her, "I won't let you get eaten by the Couch Monster. I'm sure its eaten its daily quota of pregnant victims for the day, anyway."

Olivia snorted at that, "God. You're so weird."

"Yeah, well. You love me anyways," he replied cheekily, not even realizing what he'd said, "Shit..."

"Nah, it's fine," she grinned wickedly, "Whatever."

"Thanks. I guess."

She nodded, "Yeah. But if this couch gets any ideas you'd better pull me out, and fast, unless you want that comment not to slide..."

"Hi," Olivia looked up at a petite woman with curly red hair that reached her elbows, "My name's Julie. What's yours?"

"Olivia," she responded.

Julie gestured to a tall, tan man beside her and introduced, "This is my fiance, Ari. He doesn't talk too much."

"This is Peter, my, uh..." she looked towards him for support.

"Friend," he supplied, "Nice to meet you guys."

"I'm thirty-one weeks," sighed Julie, "Due mid-April. Ari and I are getting married sometime in September, after the baby's born. How far along are you?"

"Twenty-eight weeks," Olivia answered.

"You having a boy or a girl?" asked Julie, leaning against the armrest, "We're having a little girl."

"I don't know," Olivia shrugged, "Didn't see much point in figuring it out, you know?"

Julie nodded, "Well, we'd better sit."

Ari and Julie left for a couch nearby and Peter gently placed a hand on Olivia's knee. She smiled at him. Then she sighed, looked at her hands folded in her lap.

"What's wrong?" he murmured quietly.

"Nothing," she assured, smiling a little, "Just wondering if you wanted to know whether we're having a boy or girl."

"I don't care," he replied, calm and gentle, "I'll be happy either way."

Olivia bit her lower lip, nodding, "Yeah. I feel the same way."

He grinned, kissed her cheek, "Well. Class will start soon. They seemed nice enough."

As if on cue, a young, peppy woman with wildly curly black-and-purple hair came in. They shared a look and Olivia shook with silent laughter. Still, they'd seen weirder and were able to compose themselves quickly.

"Hello, my name is Jordan," announced Punk Woman, "I'm your instructor. I've been teaching Lamaze for six years and I have four kids, all under the age of eight. Enough about me! Let's get started by telling us your names and how far along you are."

She turned towards Julie, who began, "I'm Julie Carson, and this is my fiance of ten months, Ari Desai. I'm thirty-one weeks pregnant and we're having a little girl."

"I'm Annabeth Rodgers," announces the next woman, looking no more than nineteen, "I'm eighteen years old, and this is my best friend, Katie Wilkes. I'm twenty-eight weeks pregnant, and I'm having a boy."

"Sara Vales," informs the cheery next woman, "This is my wife of three years, Lilith Miller-Vales. I'm thirty weeks pregnant with a girl."

"I'm Olivia Dunham," announced Olivia after Sara, "This is my friend and the baby's father, Peter Bishop. I'm twenty-eight weeks pregnant. I don't know if I'm having a boy or a girl. We want to be surprised."

After Peter and Olivia were Jason and Catherine Wilson, teetering on the edge of divorce at twenty-seven and a half weeks along; Carter and Mae Keenan, also work partners and twenty-nine weeks pregnant; and lastly, Isobel and Naomi Kramer, Naomi a surrogate for her infertile twin sister, Isobel, thirty-two weeks pregnant. Between Ari and Julie, Annabeth and Katie, Sara and Lilith, Peter and Olivia, Jason and Catherine, Carter and Mae, and Isobel and Naomi, as well as Jordan, there are fifteen people; fourteen couples, and seven pregnant women ranging from twenty-seven to thirty-two weeks pregnant.

The class is over at one after forty minutes. Olivia is glad to leave, nodding a goodbye to Jordan and giving a polite smile to Julie on her way out. Peter's hand rests on the small of her back and she's mind. It's kind of comforting, actually. Not that she'll let him know that, of course, but it really is nice, and normal, too. She finds she actually enjoys this possessive claim he's staked on her and the baby. It's sweet, really. It really is.

Lunch is good; they talk and laugh and eat. They speak of the baby, of work, of almost everything. It's nice. Olivia's officially assigned that word to them as of late: nice. He's nice, she's nice, the kid's nice, the weather's nice, the job's nice. It's all nice. And it is. Really.

Except for the fact that they haven't really talked about the other side. She wants to, but she doesn't know how. He doesn't push her on it. Right now the baby's too important and they can't risk stressing Olivia too much. So it's become the big fat elephant in the middle of the room and Olivia knows it'll snap, eventually, probably once the baby is born. She doesn't really care. She'll talk when she's ready, and Peter knows that. He respects that, too. But some days she just wishes he'd rile her up, ask her, anything at all. Just so she knows in some sick, sadistic, masochistic way that he really does care for her.

She ponders this on the drive to the lab; she'd let him drive because the kid takes up most of the space and having her growing belly smooshed against a steering wheel isn't exactly comfortable. The radio is on low to some jazz station. Olivia's absently watching the scenery pass by. Peter drives, occasionally glancing over at her. She seems to glow from the inside out. Pregnant, having been tortured, she is alight with hope and mirth and life. It's beautiful and it makes him feel hopeful for the uncertain future.

Olivia sighs, running a hand over her bulging middle. Today she's worn black maternity slacks and a white button down blouse; her matching jacket sits in what remains of her lap. Her hair is pulled back in a French braid done by Ella hastily that morning. She's exhausted. Peter, sensing this, reaches out and gently, tentatively, squeezes her thigh, right above her knee. She frowns, eyes fluttering open; then she sighs, relaxes, eyes closing, a tranquil smile spreading across her perfect face.

They arrived at the lab soon after; once Peter was sure that Walter was doing something that could harm Olivia or the child, he helped her to her office. She nodded gratefully, still unused to being so dependent. He smiled reassuringly at her and left. Olivia sighed, closing the door. She'd do some paperwork; if anything in the lab got potentially hazardous, Astrid would come to warn her.

The baby kicked against her stomach; Olivia was used to it now. The child was a part of her... and they he or she wouldn't be. In just two months or so she'd be a mom. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, really. Olivia was due on May 2; it was February 16. She still had a little over two months.

And yet, she felt unprepared.


End file.
